


Lullaby for a Weary Healer

by mevima



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevima/pseuds/mevima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merrill finds Anders decidedly not taking care of himself in his clinic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lullaby for a Weary Healer

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from draegaa: Merrill and Anders, "You know, it's okay to cry."
> 
> This grew a bit longer than a drabble; as long as I write such short fiction, anything near 1k counts as a full piece. I really wish I could title this "Damn it, take care of yourself, Anders." Title is based off "Lullaby for a Weary World," which is an awesome song. Set during Act I, pre-Hawke/Anders.

The clinic was a mess. Bloody bandages lay piled in a corner, tables were pushed aside, and the collection of medicines stored on the corner shelf seemed paltry. Stepping carefully as she entered, Merrill wondered if there had been a fight, or a break-in - but nothing seemed damaged, just cluttered, as if nobody had taken the time to tidy lately.

"Anders?" she called softly, wondering if he were even here. The front area was deserted, after all, and it was only early evening.

From the single private room in the back, she heard a heavy sigh and the slow scraping of a chair. "Yes, I'm coming, how can I - " Anders' voice cut off as he emerged and spotted her. "Hello, Merrill," he smiled tiredly.

Somehow, the healer looked even more haggard than usual. He clutched the door frame as he stopped moving as if it were the only thing holding him up. His blond hair clung stringy to his forehead, pulled partially loose from his ponytail, and the hollows under his eyes and cheeks were dark with fatigue. "Anders," Merrill gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth in surprise. "Did something happen?"

"No?" Anders seemed confused. "What do you - oh." He looked ruefully around the clinic, taking in its disarray, and shrugged. "Just been busy. Healing, writing, and... other things." The sentence changed direction before he could complete it, nearly stumbling over his own words. Merrill was sweet, but didn't understand the shem Circle at all, and the Mage Underground wasn't a secret he was about to share with anyone who didn't absolutely need to know.

"No, not your clinic." She dismissed it with a glance and minced quickly forward, reaching out a delicate hand to rest it on Anders' cheek. He flinched back instinctively, but not before she felt the gritty texture left behind by malnourishment and dirt. Hand falling, Merrill's face crumpled in sympathy. "Lethallin... you're... When was the last time you slept?"

"Yester...day...?" Anders frowned, trying to think, then shook his head as he found memory too difficult. "It doesn't matter. Did you need something?"

"Hawke asked me to check up on you while he left; there was some sort of emergency on the Wounded Coast." Merrill waved the idea away, despite Anders' sudden attention at the thought of the man going into danger without him. "I should have brought bread and fruit! Creators, Anders, you need to sleep and eat!"

"I'm _fine_ , Merrill," Anders protested, but the waver in his step as he headed towards a crooked chair betrayed his words. An involuntary groan escaped his lips as he settled down, and he scraped a hand through his hair, pulling the last of it free from its tie and letting it fall, unnoticed. "Though Maker knows I could use a bath," he admitted under his breath.

Merrill followed the man to hover uncertainly at his side. "I should tell Hawke, or maybe Varric -"

"No," Anders cut her off forcefully. "Please don't. Not... not Hawke."

"But, Anders," the elf protested, "he can help take care of you."

"I'm taking care of myself!" Anders snapped.

"You're really not." Merrill folded her fluttering hands in front of her as she scolded him. "You need help."

"I don't...." Anders lost steam as quickly as he'd begun, and dropped his head into his hands. "If you must, I could use some food and clothing for the refugees. They can hardly afford to live."

" _You're_ not living, Anders!" Merrill cried in exasperation. "You're working yourself to the bone! And just _why_ don't you want me to tell Hawke? He can help! He's good at helping his friends."

"Hawke's got enough to deal with! And he shouldn't... see me like this." Anders looked down at his ink-stained hands, and it was far harder than it should have been to pull on a trickle of mana and summon a handful of water in a vain attempt to clean them. Without soap or a bucket, it wasn't particularly effective, and the huff of breath he let out as the dirtied water splattered the floor had the hint of a whimper in it. "I'm a mess."

"Lethallin..." This time when Merrill stepped in close, Anders didn't pull back, and he held very still as she wrapped her arms around him gently. "Let us help you."

"I can't... think about myself," Anders whispered, leaning into her slight body, attracted by the offered warmth and affection. "There are so many other people who need it..."

"Hush. They'll wait." Merrill patted his hair encouragingly.

Anders' eyes closed, and he felt the heavy weight of exhaustion settle over his shoulders as he let out a shaky breath. He was... so, so tired, but there was still so much to be done, not only for his patients in Darktown but for Justice, and the Circle mages, and Kirkwall. Dimly, he realized Merrill was still humming soothing words at him.

"It's okay, lethallin. It's okay to sleep. We'll put you to bed, yes?" He shook his head, wavering, not sure what he was denying, and was surprised when his breath caught, shaking out unsteadily. "Shhhh," she continued, and Anders heard the reassuring lilt of a storyteller in her voice. "It's okay to cry, too. You're exhausted, Creators know you need it."

"I can't," he sighed, muffled into her light coat. He was hardly aware of what he was saying, half asleep already. "I haven't cried since Justice."

"Hush," Merrill hummed calmingly again. "You spend far too much time grumpy and unwell. Go to sleep, and I'll fetch you some food later, and when Hawke gets back we'll see about what else we can do."

Even with her tiny frame, Merrill was able to assist the exhausted man into his inadequate cot. She tucked him in carefully, as a mother would her children, and Anders was asleep before she finished shifting the thin blankets around him. Still, she stayed a while to make sure he'd stay that way, humming a Dalish lullaby as blue lightning flashed restlessly under his skin.


End file.
